Brothers by blood and steel
by PotatoGod69
Summary: The Indomitus crusade draws close to its end and Guilliman has decreed that each chapter is to field a contingent of Primaris marines. And so it was that the Unnumbered sons where split up between the remaining chapters. But even with the Primarchs decree. Can a union between such different cultures realt come to be?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: A union is like a jigsaw. Only the right pieces fit together.

* * *

"Go now, my nephews. Return to your brothers."

" You have served at mine and my son´s sides for many years. Our time together is now at an end and its time for you to close this chapter of your history. Instead, it is time for you all to write another panel into the histories of this imperium. This time with only your own hearts and the hearts of your brothers to guide you. No longer shall I stand beside you as a watching guardian."

"Go now, return to your distant brothers and share with them what these years at my side have molded you into, share with them the best of yourselves and let them in turn share with you their best. Open your hearts for them and accept them for who they are, even though hardship and pain if required."

"You are now reborn in the black of the void and the silver of cold metal, for they are the colors of your brothers. Go to them and earn your stay in their hearts, earn the right to wear these colors proudly."

* * *

Khalian remembered the words of the Primarch as if he had spoken them yesterday. He had thought about them a lot since their departure. Most of his brothers probably had.

He fondly remembered the days he had spent under the Primarchs direct command serving in the unnumbered son's, or the Greyshields as they had called themselves. But now those days where over, soon he would meet his new brothers and serve under a different chapter master.

He had undergone extensive training and tried to study as much as he could about his new brothers, though this task had indeed been hard. The chapter of his first born brothers had through the flow of time been more and more secluded. Wether by their own wishes or involuntarily, he could not find.

They where a proud chapter like any other, able to trace its history through time many thousand years before he even was born. He could respect that. Though, what he could find told about a chapter with a somewhat rough history with their compliancy to the teachings of the codex Astartes. That he found to be a harder pill to swallow. Along with that he had found out that they counted to some of the most pious chapters out in the galaxy, apparently their dedication to the emperor rivaled the fanatic in some cases.

A sense of slight unease overcame him as he thought back on those records. He had heard about more than one incident when the first meetings between Primaris marines and their first born brethren had lead to hostilities. Would their meeting turn out like those had? How would their new home chapter react? Would they go as far as to attack them?

No. He shook his head. His worries where unfounded and pointless. Guilliman had personally written and signed a letter informing the chapter master of the Steel Angels chapter that their Primaris reinforcements where to be viewed as a gift from the Emperor himself. They carried the lord of mankind's and the Lord commander of the imperium's blessings.

Along with that, the Primarchs had sent an envoy to hand over the letter and to overview the union between the Astartes. The envoy came in the form of a honored member of the Adeptus Custodes. One of the ten thousand, and member of the Emperors personal guard.

He knew full well that his worries about the reaction of his new brothers left a horrendous stain on their chapters honor. Doubting their loyalty to the Emperor, the God of all mankind? He mentally chastised himself. As his honor dictated, he would have to speak with the chapter master as well as seek guidance with a chaplain, asking for their forgiveness.

He turned from the small window he had been staring out of. It was one of a small number of viewports in the passenger compartment. The compartment forming a part of the drop-ship serving as their transport from their ship to the rest of the Astartes fleet. As he turned away the view reveled the dark void of space. Behind his back the image was slowly being blocked out by the shape of a mighty ship drawing closer by the second.

"20 seconds til landing sequence initiated, brace for landing." The tired and hollow voice of a servitor rang out over the internal ship vox.

As Khalian stepped back from the front of the compartment and away from the ramp dominating the front of the compartment he was overtaken by the golden shape of the Custodian. Towering over even him and his Primaris brothers the Custodian spared them only a short glance before taking up his place at the front of the entourage.

Khalian joined his brothers further back. Most of the company command was present as well as the most veteran members of the company. Chaplain Leron and the heirlooms or death adorning his warplate and Librarian Ozerol in his deep blue armor stood out from the others in his eyes.

The grimacing skull helm of Leron always helped to putt him at ease in times of distress. A smile flickered across his lips. Ozerol. It disappeared almost as quickly as the name of his brother came across his mind. It wasn't as if he held a grudge against him or disliked him. No. It was just the matter of his age that didn't entirely coincide with Khalian.

He had been raised to the position of Librarian after his mentor Alarion had been slain in the week prior to their departure. This made him the youngest Librarian serving in the company since its inception at an age of 34 Terran years. Some, Khalian amongst them, had been against his promotion, arguing that his youth and relative inexperience and naivety would only be a detriment and made him unfit for the position.

Even now, after months of warp travel together, he wasn't convinced about Ozerol's abilities. Luckily he would soon again have mentors to teach and guide his development. At least that was what he was hoping for. He hadn't been able to find information about the status of the chapters Librarius.

But amongst all of his brethren one stood out. Gerial, the company ancient and herald. He stood at the back of the group. Clad in his ornate suite of master crafted power armor. In his hand he held the pole on which the company banner was supposed to hang. But now, the pole was empty.

Khalian didn't know how he should feel about it. Of course, every time he looked at it he just wanted to mourn. But he also felt anger sometimes. Their company banner. Their symbol of pride. Decorated by countless battle honors and telling of all of their collective deeds. Was taken away.

Of course, he understood where the serfs who had informed them that they would have to remove it where coming from. The banner belonged to the unnumbered sons, their past selves. It would be a hindrance to their full integration. Always hanging there. A testimony to their previous selves and a culture different to their new one.

Of course, they had been told multiple times that a new banner would be made for them. Like a new page in a book to fill with glories and tales of their undoubtedly countless heroics yet to come. But still. It wasn't easy looking at the empty pole. It awoke a mixture of feelings in him. Both saddening him and lighting sparks of anger.

As he took his place at the head of his brothers he turned towards the closest of them, one brother Leignos. He was an old friend of Khalian, having served together for many years. He towered over Khalian as well, even eclipsing the Custodian in size by a small margin in his suite of Mark X Gravis armor.

The armor was painted in the black and silver that would be their new identity. The fresh coats of paint almost seemed to shine, so recent had it been applied. The armor bore no scratches or even the slightest mark, a true testament to the care that had been put into it by its wearer and the serfs and adepts in the armory.

What had drawn his curiosity though was the specifics of the silver parts of their armor. Instead of having a coat of silver applied it had been the reverse. Any and all color had been removed from the ceramite of their pauldrons and visor plates, leaving them in the cold tone of the ceramite underneath. The only color permitted to remain on the pauldrons had been the colors of the chapter badge, a dark robed figure holding a sword in his hands and sprouting a pair of silver wings surrounded by a field of red.

Why had the serfs been so adamant about that part of their armor? What made just that tone of silver and the means of achieving it so important? Khalina wondered, did it hold some kind of secret meaning? If so, then did the rest of the colors on his armor, or even the chapter badge, hold further meaning?

He decided that he would seek an audience with the chapter master to try and find out if his thoughts where correct.

At Leignos's waist hung his red helmet, mag locked in place. It marked him out as the sergeant of the 5th Aggressor squad of the 4th company. That is, the 5th squad of the 4th company whilst they where serving in the unnumbered sons. He doubted that they would hold the same ranks and positions as the previously held.

"10 seconds til landing sequence initiated, brace for landing" the same hollow metallic voice rang out.

"Dose something trouble you, brother captain? Something has been on your mind lately, even I can see that." Leignos leaned in closer, a worried look on his face.

"No brother. I was just preparing myself, nothing to worry about."

It was pointless, no truth could be hidden from Leignos's eyes. He should know better than to lie.

"Khalian, it is not hard to see through your thinly veiled lies. Even for me, someone who lacks the knowledge about such matters that our brother chaplain possesses." He turned more serious, almost looming over Khalian as his eyes bore into his skull, trying to derive an answer.

"A mind at doubt can easily be led astray, all to easy to shroud in even darker and unholy thoughts. Shall I have to consult with our chaplains to make you speak."

Khalian knew better than to argue and simply let out a sigh. "That won't be necessary. I have just been feeling uneasy. I don't really know how to describe it. It's as if I can't let my mind be at ease, I can't help but think about what Is going to happen. Whenever I think about our brothers my mind seems to sway towards the worst possibilities."

He looked up at Leignos, hoping to get an answer to his worries. Leignos's sported a thoughtful expression. Dragging the seconds out before giving an answer. "Though I am no expert I believe that you simply are nervous and unsure about how you should act. You have always followed the teachings of the Codex to guide you and your brothers through any hardships…"

He paused shortly, trying to find the right words before continuing . "You have always been able to seek out the best path for us to tread, always knowing where to lead us and what awaits. But now, there is no obvious path for us and you know not to where your decisions will lead everyone under your command. You worry for the well being of your company and your brothers and seek to protect them."

Leignos looked back at Khalian. He was right, his thoughts had been clouded by worry. He had always had something to rely on to guide him. He had until now always known what to do when put in difficult positions. But now, he had no idea what he should do. He clung to the Primarchs word in a desperate hope that they would see him and all his brothers for whom he was responsible through this new obstacle. would probably be fair to say that he clung to them like a babe to its mother. Lost and helpless without her.

"You are probably right brother. I feel ashamed to say it like this but I feel completely helpless. Whatever I tell myself or no matter how much I try to prepare it always ends in a feeling complete and utter powerlessness. Whatever happens to us is out of my control, left to our new brothers and the primarchs words to decide."

Leignos places a large gauntlet on his shoulder in a comforting gesture and smiled. "You are our captain, our leader and the strongest amongst us. Everyone here would gladly follow you. Even if you appear to be unable to influence the future. I and every one else can feel assured so long as you lead us.

Khalian smiles back. With his brothers comforting words on his mind he took a deep breath and let his worries be at ease.

"5 seconds till landing sequence initiated, brace for landing." The silence was again cut of by the servitors voice as it started the final countdown.

"4 seconds till landing sequence initiated."

"3 seconds till landing sequence initiated."

"2 seconds till landing sequence initiated."

"1 second till landing sequence initiated."

"Landing sequence initiated, brace for landing."

The whole compartment shuddered as sounds of machinery grinding to life rose through the floor. A loud clunk followed as everything shook one last time before coming to a stand still.

Khalian took another deep breath. Swallowing his rising nervousness down again as the frontal ramp slowly opened with the sounds of hissing and whining hydraulics. The first thing to greet them was a chorus of hymns and quires, carried through the air on awesome tunes.

As the crack crew the stream of light grew brighter and brighter, illuminating the compartment in the light of a hundred thousand candles. The yellow and red light gleamed and danced on the golden giant who now stood in the opening. Showing what a true marvel of craftsmanship the golden plate truly was, more so than the lights in the compartment ever could.

The ramp plating trembled with each step he took down it, his red cloak swaying behind him and guardian spear in hand as he stepped onto the deck of the launch bay. Khalian and his brothers stepped out after and proceeded to spread out so no one was obscured behind his brothers. Their eyes adjusting to the light in a split second, revealing the sight in front of them.

The launch bay resembled more of a ceremonial hall than any vehicle bay. Stretching up along the far walls where huge stone arches, of such architectural prowess that they seemed more reserved for cathedrals, holding the ceiling up. In between, banners illuminated by large flaming cauldrons hung proudly.

Khalian's eyes where immediately drawn towards the detailed imagery displayed on each of them. He studied the images of different angels, some standing proudly over fallen enemies whilst some seemed to be in the midst of battling them. Whatever the images displayed, they where breathtaking. They all seemed steeped in rich history and dripping in martial traditions and culture. Each one without a doubt telling a hundred glorious tales at once.

His gaze wondered away from the banners, instead turning to the virtual army of serfs arranged in front of them. All bowing and on their knees and clad in long dark robes. The sound of singing rose from each and every one of them, combining into one deafening quire only further amplified by the echo in the large empty hangar.

They where singing to bid them welcome, some kind of welcoming ceremony. Of all the things Khalian was expecting, this was not one of them. Lost for words he simply gazed out over the mass of kneeling serfs. Truly, the Primarchs words had held true. They where blessed by the Emperor and welcomed as such. His faith had not been misplaced.

They where all awoken from their trance as the custodian stepped forward and continued on. He strode down the corridor dividing the serfs into two crowds leading to the their first born brethren who stood further back.

Khalian's eyes trailed the Custodians path for a short second before he too stepped forward and strode towards his new bretheren. He was determined to make a good of an impression as possible on his new brothers, so letting them wait was out of the question.

Arrayed in front of them where what Khalian guessed to be about four to five hundred marines. Most of whom where kneeling like the serfs, all clutching a swords with both hands resting on the ground. Like the plated warriors spoken of in old Terran mythology.

As he came closer he started to notice something off about them. It took a few further seconds for him to put a finger on what it was. It was their armor markings and colorations. They all bore markings with which he was unfamiliar with.

Most of the marines amors bore the same black and silver as theirs did. But here and there marines had golden visor plates instead of the silver ones everyone else bore. Further ones had helmets in complete silver, lacking the black that everyone else had whilst even further had silver with golden visors.

This clear sign of non compliance with the Primarch's teachings was something completely alien and anathema to Khalian who had grown up on the teachings of the holy Codex. Hiding his discontent he assumed a neutral expression. There was no need to take up the matter at this moment. No productive results would yield from doing so and it would only set them of on a bad footing for their integration. And that was something he could not allow.

Amongst the mass of their first born brethren where multiple groups of marines suited in terminator plate. Towering over their brothers in their bulky war plates they almost stood as tall as Khalian and his brothers. Almost.

Though, the difference in height between them didn't mean that Khalian looked down on them or in some way thought less of them. No. Rather, he felt incredibly honored to be greeted by the first company veterans. After all, he could not put the bodies they had been granted against them. He could only feel pity for them and their circumstances to not be born with the improved gifts that he and his brothers had received.

Even without the improvements made upon the Emperors work they had managed to defend the galaxy for over ten thousand solar years. He could only hold them up in the highest regard for doing so.

The entourage stopped, right opposite of what Khalian only could assume to be the commanders of the chapter and their retinues. The six marines standing in front were all clad in golden suits of power armor, mirroring the gleaming suite worn by the Custodian. Red silk cloaks where draped around the golden war plate, giving each of them the air of nobility. Of the marines assembled before them all exempt one clutched their helmets under their arms, revealing their facial features.

What immediately stood out to Khalian about them was their tattoos. All of their faces where covered with tattoos of scriptures, running over them from their foreheads all the way down their necks where they where covered up by their armor. Not a centimeter was spared as lines of text ran over eyelids, noses, lips, ears and chins. Some even had brands of imperial Aquilas or other symbols of faith on their skin.

Though he could newer imagine himself going to such lengths to show his devotion he didn't find the tattoos and brands to be disturbing. After all, he had seen many other servants of the throne bearing similar markings. Inquisitors and the warriors of the honorable Adeptus Sororitas amongst them.

"Greetings. In the name of the Chapter and myself I bid you welcome aboard the Ihra Inglorium Ferra." The golden Astartes who stood front and center welcomed them with a smile on his lips as he bowed deeply in front of the Custodian. He was probably the Chapter master judging from the ornate suite of armor worn by him and his central position amongst the others, Khalian guessed.

"My name is Igoron Anarelius, Chapter Master of the Steel Angels. I am deeply honored to be met by one of the Emperors Royal Custodians, one of the ten thousand and watcher of the throne." Still kneeling he introduced himself. Khalian had been right in his assumption.

"Rise honorable chapter master. I have been sent here by the will of the Emperors son, lord commander of the imperium, to hand over this document. Signed and sealed by the primarchs himself." He took out the rolled up parchment and handed it over.

Igoron took the parchment and carefully broke the wax seal on it. His eyes seemed to gleam as they danced over line after line as he read the message. As he came to the end he closed his eyes for a second an let out a soft sigh before putting it away in a pouch on his belt.

"I see." He rose up and turned away from them. His silk cloak and the myriad of purity seals adorning his warplate fluttered at the sudden motion. Khalian tensed up, what was he going to do? Had something in the letter not been to his liking? Was he not satisfied with the Primarchs words? Why had he sounded so resigned as he rose?

A myriad of similar questions shot through his head in the span of a second. He really wasn't at ease about this whole ordeal after all. All those temporary moments of calmness where just that. Temporary.

"Brothers! We are gathered here today to welcome these brothers of ours into our ranks. They have been gifted by the Emperor with blessings surpassing our own and sent to us as reinforcements reinforce in such dire times as this." He paused shortly, letting his words carry across the hangar and sink in. Khalian relaxed again. He really needed to seek an audience with the chaplains after all this to cleanse any and all wrong thoughts from his mind.

"They stand before us as gifts. A sign of support from the imperium. They carry with them the personal blessings of our beloved God Emperor and his regent and only living son, the Primarchs of the XIIVth, Robute Guilliman. I trust in each of you to take it upon yourself to accept them into our ranks. After all, a broken chapter is a breeding ground for dark intentions."

"Hail lord Igoron! Hail oh God Emperor of Mankind! Hail Robute Guilliman!" A hundred voices answered in chorus.

A smile flashed over khalian's lips. There really had been no reason to worry at all.

"Forgive our rudeness. I believe we haven't even fully introduced ourselves." Igoron turned back towards them, still with a smile on his lips.

He reached his arm out towards the closest marine to his left. "This is Relimus. Lord of House Olthang." The marine in question went down on one knee and bowed his head deeply. "It is an honor." Khalian bowed his head in return.

Igoron continued with the marine next to him. "This is Telinor. Lord of house Leithang." He followed Relimus's example and bowed down as well. "You honor me." Khalian returned in kind with a bow as well.

Igoron went on to introduce the remaining four marines in the same fashion. Their names where Agustus, Erelan, Gedilen and Heralus. Each of them respective lords of House Taurang, Gerolong, Ferotang and Relang in turn.

As he was introducing them Khalian mustered them with his eyes, looking for any markings to differentiate the houses from each other. Instead of the trim coloration he was so used to he found red and black checkered patterns on each of their knees. Each one of them sported a pattern with an increasing number of checkers.

He guessed that they where used to differentiate between each company. House, he corrected himself quickly. Houses, not companies. He let out an internal sigh, this union would indeed be a difficult one.

He also made a mental note to ask Igoron about why there where only six houses and why they where called so instead of companies. Maybe the other four where out in deferent parts of the galaxy campaigning. That would explain why not the entire chapter was present.

As Igoron finished introducing the present officers Khalian began to return in kind and started to introduce his brothers as well. After all, so was only propped.

"My name is Khalian Tilerux. Former captain of the unnumbered sons second company." His bow was answered by a nod from Igolon. "Next to me is veteran Sergeant Leignos. My trusted advisor and senior battle brother of the company."

Khalian continued to introduce them one after the other.

* * *

Hello. PotatoGod here again. But this time with a deterrent story, like some of you might have noticed. Dose this mean that my other story is dropped or discontinued? Well, no. It's as Master or the forge Durisian said. "It is locked in hybernation. It sleeps but dose not lay dead."

Life has been interfering like crazy and I don't see any real end to it in the near future so I decided that writing such a huge story wasn't a good idea. Further, I felt like such a huge project as detailing a whole planetary siege was a bit much for me right now and I wanted a story with a much smaller scope. So I put it on pause for now.

Hope that you found the first chapter interesting. I have a few things already planned out and I hope you are as exited as I am to se where this journey takes us.

PotatoGod69 signing out.


	2. Chapter 2

Khalian ducked under the wide arc of the swinging maul as it came for his head. Passing only a breath away frown his face, it continued on past him. Seeing an opening, he lunged forward, the grip of his blade resting firmly in his hand as he thrust it forward. Faster than a mortal eye could see. If he could move faster than his opponent could react then he could win in a heart beat.

The strike was instead sidestepped by his opponent as he spun his body out of the way, failing to deliver the hoped for hit. The answer to his attack came immediately as the maul again came crashing down. Bearing enough force to probably break his arm if he didn't deflect it to the side. Khalian clenched his teeth as he tightened the grip on his blade to meet the force of the strike.

The maul met the blade in a shower of sparks. Sliding against the blade where it was guided away to the side by its angle. In between breaths Khalian saw another weapon coming for his side. Left exposed as he deflected the maul. His eyes shot open as he quickly moved to evade. In a heartbeat he spun around and away, bringing his blade around to parry the secondary strike.

Reacting immediately, his opponent ceased the opportunity and came around Khalian where he delivered a kick in the back of his knee. Khalian was sent tumbling to the ground as he lost his footing. Before he could react further, his opponent grabbed him in a choke hold and thrust his blade down towards Khalians chest.

The outcome was all but decided now.

The blade stoped inches from his chest and the twin beating hearts there under. Quickly after, the arm around his throat let go and released him. Allowing him to greedily suck in air again. Filling his three lungs with precious oxygen.

"I have bested you again. Maybe the Custodian was wrong after all. Maybe you aren't as superior as it is claimed." Igolon's voice came as a mocking laughter as he rested his maul against the floor and sheathed his blade.

Looking up at the aging chapter master Khalian let out a sigh as he let himself slump down on the floor where he stood. Still breathing heavily as beads of sweat trickled down his face and over his lips. Tasting salty against his tongue as he licked them off.

He to was perplexed by the outcome of their continues dueling. Even with his superior body Igolon had managed to come out the better of the two. Using every trick and skill he had learned in his long life which surpassed Khalian's own thrice fold. He had not thought that the gap between their capabilities was so wide.

"Rise. One of my chapter dose not sit down after a fight." Anger flared in his voice as he glared at Khalian's sitting form. "Your weakness disgusts me." Surprised and a bit confused Khalian looked up at him. "What?"

"The weakness of your body is sickening. You shall expunge it through grueling training from now on." Khalian eyed the Chapter Master. Still surprised by his sudden flare of anger.

"But the same dose not hold for the weakness of your mind." Igolon continued. "You let the temptation get the better of you. Are you not in command of your own body? Do you let your discipline fade once the thought of rest arises? Seek guidance with chaplain Tazaro to remedy your lacking discipline. Dismissed."

The tone of the Chapter master let no room for discussion, all he could do was obey. Swallowing his bewilderedness, he got up on aching legs and left the ring towards the closest bulkhead. A slight feeling of resentment and irritation rising within him. Doors hissing as they slid shut after him, he exited the chamber and continued down the hallway.

Once he was a few paces away he let out his pent up frustration. It having reached a boiling point over the last moments. He let loose with a roar and smashed his fist hard into the steel paneling making of walls. Hard enough to draw blood on his knuckles.

Pain flared in his hand as he turned away from the wall again. Just in time to see a pair of his first born brethren passing by. Sending cold and judging looks in his direction after his fit of anger. Embarrassed to have let out his emotions so immaturely he turned away from them. Chastising himself for something so improper. Igolon had been right, he needed guidance by the chaplains.

Or did he? Was he not right to feel this frustration? The last few days hadn't exactly gone well for him. Fist he was informed of his company being broken up and divided up amongst the existing houses. A move he was expecting in all honesty, but the split hadn't come along the expected lines. Instead of a squad by squad basis they had been split up on an individual basis and assigned to separate existing squads individually.

The decision had been explained as a move to faster integrate each of them into the chapter culture and doctrine of war. Having decided that the handicap in combat performance of the Primaris units would be a price worth paying.

Khalian wanted to groan out loud at the thought. Even though he could understand the reason, he found it utterly stupid and unnecessary. Well. No point in arguing. The Chapter master and lords had made up their minds and no amount of arguing would change that. And believe me, he had tried.

Secondly, he has also been informed that he no longer would hold a commanding position. He would instead be demoted to the rank and file. Serving as an Intersessor again. After his demand for an explanation, he had been told by Igolon and the gathered chaplains that to command a company he would first need expensive re training in line with the chapters doctrines. He had also been told that to reach his old position, he would need to serve as a chaplain for a decade first. Why so, the Chapter Master and his aids hadn't shared with him.

There was something else gnawing at his mind though. Something he couldn't help but notice since coming here. On every opportunity his smaller brethren always seemed to be cold and distant. Judging him every step he took and always peering over his shoulder to catch every wrong he did. Never failing to comment his and his Primaris brothers every step in some harsh way.

Even if that in and of itself wasn't anything he hadn't experienced before. Or even been something he hadn't expected. It still felt wrong. At no time could he even show the slightest of crack. Always having multiple pairs of eyes bore into the back of his neck was tiring him out mentally. But. He guessed. It would only be natural. After all, they where for all intends and purposes strangers living alongside them. Alien to their form of normality and their culture. They had after all only had a few days together to start to form bonds and meld together.

Still, it unnerved him. He hoped that this period would quickly be over and that he and his brothers quickly would be accepted as any other brothers of theirs.

After orienting the maze of hallways and bulkheads whilst deep in thought for a while. Passing more serfs and members of the crew on the way. He eventually arrived at the Reclusiam.

Outside the old gates of carved marble and gold stood two serfs. Dressed in their robes and faces shrouded by hoods, they looked more like the cultists and fanatics found in the temples of the Ministorum then any serf of an Astartes force.

They looked up at him, red lenses of cybernetics peering out from under the hoods, as he came closer. Khalian spared them no thought as he went to push the doors open and step through. After all, they where like any of the teeming ranks of serfs found on the ship. As he placed his hands against the cold surface of the door he suddenly felt two pairs of hands push against him.

Looking down he saw that the serfs had placed themselves in his way, stopping him from entering. "Explain yourselves! Why do you hinder me from seeking council with the chaplains." The serfs stares back up at him unflinchingly, even at his deep and booming voice as he leaned over them. Standing a good three heads taller than them.

"The master of sanctity and his aids are occupied and can't spare their time with you. They are busy holding the ceremony of Repentience Imperpituis and do not wish to be disturbed." Both of them answered in unison.

"The Chapter master himself has sent me here to speak with them. I won't be stopped by you Meyer serfs or the wishes of the chaplains." His tone allowing no arguing. "Now step aside." The serfs did as told. Stepping away with a bow each, letting him enter.

Inside the Reclusiam the air was thick with the smell of burned incense and oils. Along with a minute traces of iron. A light smog seemed to fill the air as Khalian stepped forward and moved to the center of the large temple. Candles lined the walls everywhere and parchments where haning wherever there was place. Dripping down tears of wax or wrapping the walls like some sort of wallpaper.

Breaking up this sea of paper and candles where countless statues of innumerable saints and hero's. More than he even knew the name's of easily. Each as exquisitely detailed and a true marvel of craftsmanship as the last.

Following the statues to the center of the temple he found the chaplains all assembled. Donned in their shining silver armor and skull helms, they stood cross armed over a gathered group of kneeling Astartes.

The silence was only interrupted by the sound of the rhythmical flicking of whips by the serfs surrounding the assembled Astartes. Whipping the kneeling Astartes with barbed lashes that tore at their naked skin on every contact. Ripping bleeding holes all across the ruined flesh of their backs.

Shocked and disgusted at the barbaric sight before him, he curled his lips into a sneer. "What kind of barbarity is this? To whip ones own brothers, in such a holy place no less!"

The serfs ceased their frantic lashing and whipped their heads to him. They where followed by the chaplains who raising their heads to meet his gaze. Their red glowing eye lenses seemingly giving the grim masks a wrathful aura in the dim light of the temple.

After a few tense seconds of silence the chaplains turned back to the gathered serfs and their kneeling brothers. "Leave us. Your judgement will continue on a later date." The distorted voice of the lead chaplain, the master of Sanctity, spoke through his helmet vox grill.

After bowing their heads to the chaplains, the serfs quickly rushed out. Khalian followed them with his eyes as they hurried past him and away towards the door he had come through. They where followed by the marines as they got up and turned to leave. Khalian's eyes shot open the moment they had turned around and revealed their features.

This truly was the hight of barbarity. He thought with wide open eyes.

Mouths caked in dried blood and lips sewn shut by thick wires, their appearances where those of mutilated and tattered monstrosities. Every one of them had the skin on his face ruined beyond recognition through horrid mutilation. The last remaining proof of the Astarte they once had been where their eyes. Eyes that stared at him in a mixture of anger and regret as they passed him. Some even glimmering with what he only could assume to be tears.

Khalian, still shocked, took a step aside to keep some distance between himself and the mutilated marines. Turning around he followed them with his eyes before the doors closed again.

What had he just witnessed? By the throne, he hoped that his fears where not true. He had found similar sights amongst the servants of the ruinous powers and their so called 'pleasure cults'. Had he just witnessed something he wasn't supposed to see? If so, why then did Igolon send him here now? Did he not know of this? If so, he had to tell the chapter master.

"Why have you come here to interrupt out most holy ceremony?" The master of sanctity, Tazaro, asked. His glaring eye lenses fixed on his own.

"What in the name of the Emperors and the Primarchs did I just witnessed?" Khalian ignored the question to instead ask his own. His original intent could wait until he was sure of what had transpired just now. "Have eldritch influences warped your thoughts brothers? What madness clouds your minds to think such barbarity could ever be described as holy!?"

A slight chuckle could be heard from the gathered chaplains. Something about the current situation obviously seemed to amuse them. "Far from it. It is you who lack the ability to see the beauty in it." The master of sanctity stepped closer to him and undid his helmet. Sliding the skull mask of with a silent hiss, revealing the hard featured of Tazaro's face underneath.

"Please do explain the so called 'beauty'. I fail to see it." Khalian answered rhetorically. "The beauty of seeing ones brothers standing up to repent for their sins. The beauty of seeing them accept an eternity of suffering and shun their previous selves in order to gain atonement for every sin weighing down on the chapters honor. The beauty of them accepting eternal silence. Never to speak for themselves and instead only to act for the words of the Emperor. Newer to be forgiven until the day they die and finally can stand proud before the Emperor again."

He continued his explanation as he stepped ever closer to Khalian. "Explain to me how that is not true beauty." He placed his hand on Khalian's shoulder, the cold metal stinging against his skin, and looked up, peering into his eyes. Khalian returned the look and glared back. The two of them continued to stare at each other. As if in some contest of wills, trying to measure who would prove superior and who would break away first.

Khalian broke first, turning his eyes away to avoid the continuous stare of the chaplain. "Now, I have answered 'your' question. Weather the answer is satisfactory though, dose not concern me. Time for you to answer my question. Why have you come to interrupt us?" Tazaro asked as let out a soft snort.

Khalian felt like he just had been judged. Judged and found wanting. "Chapter master Igolon has sent me here. He ordered me to submit to your judgement and to let you harden my mind and spirit." The words felt wrong as they left his mouth. As if he even believed in them. He needed no counseling for his mind was already honed to perfection.

"So? Is your mind weak? Do You falter when pressure grows? Do you lack the iron will that forms the bedrock of the formost tennets of a servant of the throne, faith?" The chaplain asked, not breaking his stare into Khalian's eyes. Every question seeped in subtle yet discernible poison. Only helping to amplify the feeling of judged Khalian felt.

He was just about to open his mouth to defend himself from these accusatory questions when the chaplain spoke again. "You don't have to answer. 'Your' opinion is irrelevant in this matter. I will personally oversee your development and make up my own mind."

Khalian felt exasperated. Never had he ever felt so utterly disrespected or mistreated. Why did he have to go through att this humiliation? He was molded to perfection by his time by the primarchs side. He had been counseled by countless chaplains, from multiple chapters across the galaxy and seen his soul hardened. Each of them had guided him and made him into the warrior he was today. Each of them had of course judged him and sought to change him, but none had been so blunt and disrespectful as the man in front of him.

"I know what's going through your mind. You question why you foremost amongst all your brothers seem to get picked out? Why is nothing you have done and will ever do enough? I'm right, am I not?" He turned his back to Khalian and stepped away towards the far side of the chamber. As if he didn't even want an answer. So sure in his own ability to read others. He wasn't wrong though, as much as Khalian didn't want to admit it.

He nodded. As if believing the chaplain could see with eyes in his neck. "Yes, you are correct. Every day since coming here has seen nothing but a continuous struggle to break me down. I'm never left alone and to myself. Every step is met by criticism and my every objection is shut down on the basis that it came from me."

"Good. Now follow me. The chapter master wished you to see something." Tazaro beckoned him to follow.

Good? Was there some purpose behind his treatment? Why had he answered 'good'? And also. What did Igolon want him to see? Was this the reason he was sent here, to be shown something? Still full of questions, Khalian followed Tazaro.

He guided him deeper into the inner sanctuary of the reclusiam, past chambers filled with towering altars and shrines adorned with holy scriptures. Past carefully kept pedestals bearing the chapters most revered relics. Ranging from pieces of armor and weapons of such age Khalian could only guess their origins, to more makaber relics and trinkets. The cracked skull of one chapter master Relimus, M36 was suspended in mid air above one such alter. Another displayed object caught his attention, featured a simple barbed metal ring. Adorned by multiple jagged spikes pointing inwards. The inscriptions at the base of the shrine read 'Crown of the redeemed. May he forever be reminded of his sin lest he forget.'

Noticing Khalian had stopped to inspect the crown, Tazaro halted and turned towards him. Looking at him over his shoulder he observed Khalian as he read the inscriptions and roamed the relic with his eyes. A slight smile flashed across his lips but disappeared as quickly as it came.

"The crown was last worn by the previous chapter master, Agestarus Ineroal. He wore it in his final confrontation with the Ork warboss Grotking Er'azruk where he slew the abhorrent beast in one on one combat. Though he survived the duel, he did not live too see the end of the campaign to break the Whaagh. His body was recovered buried under a fallen Ork scrap titan as the campaign grew to a close."

Khalian took the story in whilst continually looking at the crown. As if it held some morbid fascination to him. He observed a small droplet of blood suspended a bit underneath one of the jagged spikes. Probably held there by the stasis fields time warping effects. He pondered. How long must the droplet have been falling at this point. He dismissed the thought as trivial and turned back to the waiting Chaplain.

"What did you want to show me?" Tazaro turned his back to Khalian again and beckoned him to follow. "Right here." He pointed forwards into the darkness ahead of them. The whole wall ahead seemed to have been built without thought given to its illumination. No Illuminators or other light sources where mounted on it and what light came from the pedestals didn't reach far enough. Not even a candle was mounted on the wall.

"What is this? Is there something hidden in the darkness?" Tazaro let out a bemused chuckle at that. "Yes, there is indeed something in the dark. Reach out and pull it into the light."

He did as told and reached out, curiosity overtaking him for but a moment. He felt a soft but sturdy fabric flow through his fingers as he groped it and pulled on it. Bringing it into the light with the sound of tearing cloth. The chaplain stepped up next to him and peered past him at what he was holding with a bemused smirk.

In his hand he held the blue-yellow fabric of his old company banner. Torn at the top where he had most likely torn it of its mounting. His fingers followed the intricate workings of golden threads woven into the fabric. Forming names of past heroes and campaign's, some he had experienced or knew and some he didn't. But he knew their names, every one of them.

Mentors, friends, brothers. Their shared hardships and glories as well as some of their collective shames. They where all eternalized in this banner. Kept alive even as the years washed their memories away. Khalian could not help but smile as the sight. Yet he felt confused. Why was he shown this?

"My company banner! Why are you showing me this and why was it hidden here?" What was the meaning of this? Did he want him to remember his past, keeping it alive as to always carry it with him. Was he trying to teach him that he should seek pride in his memories? Maybe saying that he should stay as he was and not change?

"Burn it."

Khalian was left dumbfounded after Tazaro interrupted his pondering. Not knowing if he had heard him correctly he turned to the chaplain, a questioning look on his face. "What?" The chaplain looked right back at him. A dead serious expression on his face and pointed at the fabric. "You heard me correctly, burn it."

Khalian's brain seemed to have ground to a halt for a second before he came back to his senses. "Are you mad? Why are you telling me to burn my banner and destroy some of my and my brothers most cherished memories?" He asked the chaplain as he shook his head. Still not processing what he had just heard.

"Exactly. Burn it and show me that you fully embrace your new brothers and are willing to leave your old ways behind. Show me that you are one of us. That doesn't sound so hard, does it?" The chaplain explained as he handed Khalian a torch.

His eyes wandered from the between the banner and the crackling flame. One, the product of blood, sweat and tears. Every thread and every detail having a meaningful story behind it. And the other shining and angry crimson as it burned away. Threatening to forever consume the legacy of his now gone brothers.

He took the torch with one hand and held it over the fabric, hesitantly yet still determined. Taking a deep breath he slowly and shakily lowered the torch towards the fabric. He could do it. He would have to if he wanted to prove himself to the chaplain. Speaking of, he glanced over to the chaplain who seemed to be encapsulated by the torch. The flames reflecting in his eyes, burning with a lustfull hunger as they tried to lick the surface of the banner.

No. What was he doing? He couldn't do this. This was wrong. Khalian shook his head and shoved the torch back into Tazaros hand. "I can't! You can't expect me to burn this. The collective memories of my brothers. It holds to much meaning to be burnt."

Tazaro responded with a distasteful sneer. He turned towards Khalian and looked him deep in the eyes. "Just as I expected. You are no brother of mine, and never will be. Unless you burn every bridge to your past, you won't be able to take a single step on the road to enlightenment. It will scream at you, tear at you, dragging you back to the lost soul you where before."

He paused for a moment. Turning away from him again and taking the banner out of his hands. The chaplain cradled the piece of cloth in his hands, going over it with gauntleted hands much like Khalian had done. "Of course, every pupil needs guidance on his first steps on the road to salvation and realization. What kind of teacher would I be if I where to deny you that basic privilege? Look closely now pupil, as I loosen the shackles holding you back."

With self righteousness in his voice and eyes all but consumed in the raging flames of the torch, he brought the fire closer to the cloth. Khalian's eyes shot open in dreadful realization as the flames licked the blue material. The heat turning the finely woven material into blackened and shriveled threads that quickly caught fire.

Khalian jumped up and lunged at the burning banner with a cry on his lips. "Nooo! You devil, how could you?!" After a quick struggle over the banner Khalian lost out to the power armored chaplain. Being sent to the floor after a fierce strike at his skull and a hard kick to his ribs. The ceramite clad strikes cracking even his tough bones. After another kick to his side as he was down he started to cough up blood, the warm liquid leaving a metallic after taste in his mouth.

"Know your place you ungrateful full child! Now look. LOOK! Look as you banner burns! See the fire consume every last speck of you so called 'meaningful memories'. Watch and know that every last thing you love will burn. And in so form the flames in which I shall rebuild you. The more you hold on to it, the hotter the flames will be."

Khalian had to suppress the tears almost welling up in his eyes. Feeling that each show of perceived weakness would be punished even harder. If they where from the throbbing pain spreading warmth through his body at the side of his skull and chest or from the loss of something of such importance to him or both, he couldn't tell.

Tazaro let the banner fall down, now nothing more than burned and shriveled ash, and took a step towards the downed Khalian. "Stretch out your hand." He commanded, as his feel halted before Khalian's face. Doing as the chaplain ordered, he reached out his hand. Biting down on the searing pain in his side to stretch his arm up.

Instead of grasping the outstretched hand, Tazaro reached out with his other hand holding the torch. Showing the burning hot coal and metal into Khalian's hand instead, smiling grimly as Khalian let out a short cry of pain. The glowing hot coal burning his flesh, leaving melted and ruined skin on his palm. After taking a look at his work the chaplain turned away with a satisfied snort, leaving Khalian lying in the floor.

"This is Captain Ilathena hailing all Chapter commanders aboard. I repeat. Captain Ilathena hailing all Chapter command aboard. Out fleet Astropaths have reported a distress call. Your presence is required on the bridge." The vox speakers mounted in the reclusiam, like in any other chamber in the vessel, crackled to life and brought with them the distorted yet recognizable voice of the ships female captain.

"I apologize for having to leave you here like this, I was expecting to have more time for you. But alas, I'm required elsewhere. Serfs! Tend to him for now and call on an apothecary. I suspect I may have been to harsh in my physical punishment." The chaplain made to leave, disappearing into the shadows. Only leaving the sound of heavy footfalls and the slowly shrinking humming sound of his armor to indicate his departure.

A pair of serfs immediately rushed over at their lords behest. Most of them coming fully equipped with stimulants and other drugs to aid and lessen the pain as well as some basic tools for first aid. Khalian did not protest or try to resist as they went to work, only remaining lying on the cold hard floor, contemplating.

* * *

Hello, it's me again. Your trusty god and savior. JK. Well, leaving that aside, i have finally finished chapter 2. WOHOOO!

With college taking up so much of my time, it realy has been a slog. But i have tried to put aside as much time as i thought i would need. That coupled with me being a slow writer in general and having to rewrite this chapter a few times has sadly meant a noticable lack of progress. I apolagize for that.

So, what do you think? 

As always, please do leave some advice or criticism so that i can learn to improve my writing. After all, i want to make it as good as i possibly can.


End file.
